The Meeting of Minds
by EarthScraper
Summary: Sick of the Chosen Undead terrorizing them for nearly three years, the bosses and npcs of Lordran have gathered to discuss and share their own stories, and think of a plan to deal with the chosen Undead. Permanently. (T for swearing)
1. Chapter 1

**A.N So basically I am a little stumped on my 'Origins of Artorias' story, and so I need to think on it a little. In the meantime, I have begun a sort of experiment to see if I can be even remotely humorous. This story contains viewpoints of every boss and NPC in the game, discussing a rather important matter. Each chapter will be relatively short. I beg of thee, DO NOT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. There will be in game mechanics discussed in this story**

**Enjoy it if you can.**

* * *

'…Alright, and that concludes today's discussion on how we could fund Kirk's brand new cooking show.' Gwyn announced while flicking through some notes, Kirk rubbing his hands together crazily. 'Kirk, no crude gestures before nine in the afternoon.'

'Ohhh.' Kirk wined, doing a little 'Well! What is it?' behind his back. Around the enormous table, dungeon bosses, vendors and other people sat around it, some waiting eagerly for the next topic, others, not so much.

'Ah, now then, I have gathered you all here at this credits sequence to discuss a rather grave matter.' Gwyn sighed solemnly. 'It is about… The Chosen Undead.

Sighs and groans erupted from all over the table.

'This man has been terrorizing us for nearly THREE FUCKING YEARS, HE NEEDS TO DIE A MOST GRUESOME DEATH! PERMANENTLY!' Gwyn boomed while standing upright, before composing himself and sitting back down with a nervous cough. 'Well, that being said, who would like to open the discussions?'

An obese, hammer wielding Asylum Demon stood. 'I would like to go first.'

'Ah yes, Fredric, please go on.' Gwyn said.

'Err, its just Asylum Demon, sir.'

'That's nice, go on.' Gwyn sighed impatiently.

'Well, so here I was, following the script, sittin' on the roof, beating the crap out of Oscar…' The demon said while gesturing to Oscar. 'Then, I jump down, and scare the shit out of him. And, this part's classic… he starts punching me in the ASS!' the demon know as Fredric bursts into hysterics, followed by the rest of the table.

'But then, he runs away for a while, so, I thinking' 'Yeah, I scared him shitless.' But OH NO, he comes back with some rusty little axe, and guess what? He does a plunging attack!'

Groans and hisses could be heard all over the table.

'What a dick move.' Artorias exclaimed.

'I KNOW RIGHT!? But that's not the worst part, oh no, he starts hurling GODDAMN FIRE BALLS!' Fredric screamed. 'The before you know it, I am out on my mighty fine ass!'

'Freaking pansy-ass pyros…' Ornstein growled.

'But it gets worse. _SO MUCH WORSE_. By New game plus, he has suddenly magically found a stupidly overpowered katana, and guess what he does?'

'A plunging attack.' The table answered.

'Exactly! So he instant kills me, does twice my health in damage, and that's it, I'm out, I become a useless, redundant enemy!' Fredric gave one last outcry before slumping into his chair. 'I only wanted to become a stud…'

The whole table sympathized with him, the Taurus Demon, Steve, placed an reassuring hand on Fredric's shoulder.

'Ah, now Steve, it's your turn, tell us your experience.' Gwyn said while nodding, motioning Steve to rise.

'Er, yeah, in case you don't know me, I'm Steve.' The demon said.

'Hey Steve.' The table greeted.

'Ahem, Fred, I know how it feels man, to have a sword _rammed into your skull._ Ohhh, and he coated it in that stupid tree glue that is electrified, how does THAT work!?' The Taurus Demon, Steve, bellowed. 'He lures me over to the ladder, waits for me to attack the wall, and then does a plunging attack!'

The table only nodded with him.

'But apart from that, he doesn't really do much, I also become redundant, I know how it feels man.' Steve said while patting Fred on the back.

'You do realise that you two can jump up and attack him before he drops down, don't you?' Quelaag interrupted.

'UHWHAA?' Both demons answered.

'But, but, I didn't know that!' Steve stammered while going through several shades of red.

'Babe, I am buying you a drink.' Fred grinned while snapping both his thumbs.

'ANYway, back on topic, Solaire?' Gwyn moved the conversation along.

'Ah yes.' Solaire stood doing the 'Praise the Sun!' motion, the gayest but also the most equally badass pose the bosses have ever laid their eyes upon. 'I thought, at first glimpse, he was a rather nice chap, he seemed up for some jolly good co-operation. But then, after helping him out on numerous occasions, he stabbed me most dishonourably right in the back, stripped me naked, and left my bleeding corpse! Right in the middle of Anor Londo!' The proud warrior clenched his fists while seething.

'If ever a man must define the meaning of an enormous phallus, it is him.' The sun knight announced while sitting back down.

'Here here!' Some members of the table agreed with him.

'Yes, yes very good!' Gwyn cheered him on. 'Now, who is next?'

* * *

**Well? Huh? IS IT GOOD!? IS IT BAD!? Please tell. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

'Oi! Lord Gwyn! I'm running out of dags!' Phil the Capra Demon spoke up.

'That is not the topic of discussion, Philip' Gwyn replied.

'Nah, it is! That bloody undead wots-'is-face killed all me dags!' Phil cut back. 'And he kills me best friend too! Ya know, the mugger who squats in that house.'

'Me?' Griggs stammered.

'Nah, not you, ya pussy-footing wizard! Shank! That 'ooded fella!' Phil corrected. 'He owed me twenty 'umanity.'

The others among the table gaze each other raised eyebrows and rather perplexed expressions, and some where just laughing at the cockney Demon talking to himself.

'Moving swiftly on…' Gwyn said as he flicked another page. 'Quelaag, any thoughts on the Chosen.'

The half woman, half demon spider folded her arms defensively. 'He's a perverted little twat. Twice now I have caught him taking a peak at me with his binoculars. I got so mad once, that I nearly cut his dic-'

'Why don't you wear a bra, you div?' Gwyndolin sighed.

Quelaag snorted 'I don't need to take fashion advice of a little man who _wishes _he had a chest like mine!'

Gwyndolin sniffled, 'I-I can _dream_!' he wailed and sobbed before mincing erratically out of the room.

'I honestly don't know why I didn't have him aborted.' Gwyn sighed out loud.

'Well why didn't ya?' Artorius asked. Gwyn shook his head before flipping another page, 'All right then, who would like to speak next?'

The room was fell silent, until the clunking of armour brought every ones attention to the opposite end of the table.

'So, why are we here again?' Tarkus asked while motioning to Beatrice.

'Yeah, he didn't really do anything to us.' Beatrice agreed.

'Actually, he did.' Ornstein corrected. 'He found your bodies and stripped them clean.'

The duo fell silent at that remark.

'THAT TWO-FACED LITTLE PRICK! AFTER I COMPLETELY BOSSED THE GOLEM FOR HIM!' Tarkus boomed as he drew his sword. '**HE. WILL ****.DIE.'**

'You didn't 'boss' me, punk.' The Iron Golem retorted in a booming voice. 'I was sleepy, I wasn't ready.'

'You don't need to sleep.' Tarkus said, his helmet hiding his grin. 'But! I can _make _you sleep.'

'Well, glad to see we have won you over to our cause, Tarkus, but please, no in-fighting.' Gwyn nodded happily while writing his name on the book. 'Now let's see, anyone else? Lautrec perhaps?'

'Yes, well, I hate that backstabbing, Sunlight Blade spamming git as much as the rest of you.' Lautrec growled while placing one of his shotels on the table. 'I swear, that man, has some kind of thing for rings. Every time we meet, he kills me just for my ring!'

He added while bringing up his ring finger.

'Me too!' Havel agreed.

Shiva of the East's friend also raised his hand in agreement.

'Ah, yes, Bouncer's ring has also been stolen as well.' Shiva spoke for him.

The table was dumbfounded.

'Wait… Is that why he flips instead of rolls?' Ciaran, Gwyn's personal assassin, finally spoke.

Bouncer nodded in agreement.

'YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!' Ciaran screeched. 'You just gave him his arguably most powerful weapon! Argh, those invincibility frames!'

'Hey, don't talk to Bouncer like that.' Shiva retorted 'Or I'll show you my sword, and I won't be so gentle!'

The table fell silent, before bursting into hysterics, making Shiva flush bright red underneath his helmet.

'Hey, whoa! Stop right there!' Artorias bolted up while looming over the eastern warrior, although his floppy arm was making him look less intimidating then he was trying to be. 'Only _I _can say things like that to my chick!'

Ciaran snorted while folding her arms. 'I'm not your 'chick'!'

'Pfft, fine, you're my hoe, same thing. Either way, we totally banged off-screen.' Artorias shrugged.

'No we didn't!' Ciaran retorted.

'Yeah we did. C'mon babe, EVERYONE in the Dark Souls Community knows we did it off-screen.'

'No, all they know is the fact we had some kind of relationship, that's it!'

'Nu-uh! EarthScraper said we did in one of his stories!'

'EarthScraper is the guy we are _trying to kill!' _Ciaran shouted.

'Ohhh.' Artorias answered before sitting back down and resting his head on his arm.

'So, err, what we're we talking about?' Gwyn asked.

'My ring.' Lautrec answered.

'Ah, yes, continue.' Gwyn asked.

'Well, like Solaire, he killed me after I had helped him with some other bosses.' Lautrec added to his argument.

'That's because you killed me!' Anastacia spoke up.

'Silence wench, don't make me kill you here!' Lautrec spat while brandishing his other shotel.

Gwyn let out a sound which was sigh and a growl rolled into one. 'This is getting nowhere, next!'


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Oh, people are actually reading this. Continuing! (Please bear in mind that this entire story may not be that long.)**

'We shall go next!' Ornstein announced proudly. Smough flipped one thumb up then returned to his paper.

'Well, normally, Smough and I kick ass, you know, smash them here, impale them there, become super form and kick even MORE ass, ain't that right Fat-ass?'

'Sure is short-arse.' Smough replied dutifully.

'Anyway, as you should also know, lightning is crap against me, and so, his sunlight blade is complete shit in our fight.' Ornstein continues.

'Hang on; doesn't he have Power Within as well?' Gough, the giant archer legend spoke up.

Ornstein let out a exaggerated sigh, 'Yes, but fortunately, that is complete crap without an additional buff, so, no worries there.'

The others around them gave rather confused looks.

'So… what's he done to piss you off again?' Artorias asked. Ornstein tensed up, no doubt trying to contain his anger.

'Well, thanks to Lord Gwyn's cross-dressing, transsexual wannabe, the chosen obtained another spell…' Ornstein growled, unable to complete the sentence due to shuddering.

'It's Darkmoon Blade.' Smough answered, never taking his eyes of his paper. Gasps and over dramatic sobs erupted from the table.

'FUCK. THAT. BUFF.' Kirk shouted.

'Yes, 'cause as you know, magic does a metric fuck ton of damage against us men and women who wear armour.' Ornstein sighed as he at down. 'Smough, got anything else?'

Smough simply shrugged and grunted.

'Ah yes! That reminds me! The Boss Scoreboard!' Gwyn announced while standing up, while revealing said board. 'In fifth place, we have Kalameet, with twelve kills! Well done, Kalameet.'

'Oh yeah baby!' The black dragon roared in the dragon corner.

'In fourth, Manus, with twenty-seven! Well done, Manus.'

Manus simply did some sort of victory boogie, which was completely awesome with his flexible arm.

'In third, we have Ornstein and Smough, with thirty kills!' Gwyn continued while clapping. Ornstein soaking in all the glory, while Smough simply nodded while looking at his paper.

'In second place, with forty-two kill, the Ultimate Gankers, give a round of applause for The Four Kings!' Gwyn cheered.

'Whoo, yeah, that is how it's done my brothers!' One king roared while giving each other a mass of high fives with their tentacles.

'In first place, with a ridiculous fifty-one kills, is Knight Artorias!'

'Fuck yeah, baby!' Artorias roared while swinging his useless arm like a windmill.

The table erupted into cheers and claps, apart from one person.

'WHAT!?'

All claps ceased and all eyes fell onto the source.

'Seriously!? He's got one arm!' Ciaran screeched.

'That just means I'm more badass then the rest of yas.' Artorias said, still swinging his arm crazily. 'Oh yeah, babe… ya know that bet we placed?'

Ciaran fell silent.

'My room, straight after, babe' Artorias whispered, slightly perverted.

The other members of the table fell silent, and rather disturbed.

'Hrm, one can only wonder about the impracticalities of their sex life.' Steve thought out loud.

'Nah there's nothing to it.' Artorias answered. 'See, the trick is, you like pick her up by her stomach, and then-'

'Moving on!' Gwyn cut in. 'Seath?'

'I can't see shit!'

'We gathered.' Gwyn deadpanned.

'Oh, well, he cut my goddamn tail off!' Seath explained angrily, 'He broke my crystal, raided my archives, and killed all my helpers! Well, except Michael, but no-one likes Michael.'

'Oh, he cut my tail off too!' Kalameet added.

'Me too!' Priscilla shouted angrily.

'No, not fluffy wuffy Priscilla!' Lautrec cried with big, sparkling eyes while jumping in slow motion.

'She's so kawaii!' Quelaag agreed, doing nearly the same motion.

'_He cut my daughter's fucking tail off!?_' Seath roared angrily while shaking his fists. 'I'll kill him, **I'LL KILL HIM!'**

'No dad, _we'll _kill him!' Priscilla corrected him.

'That's my girl.' Seath smiled while hugging his 'daughter'.

The rest of the table looked at them either endearingly or deeply disturbed.

'Ugh, this is going to be a long day…' Gwyn sighed quietly to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

'Perhaps it would be best if someone sensible would go next?' Gwyn sighed. 'Like, Nito?'

The giant mound of skeletons with the _pimp-ass _cloak stood slowly, his joints creaking like an old chair that had seen many years of use.

'Fo sho.' The Gravelord said, a million voices speaking at once. 'See here, this little punk ass human walks in like he's a boss, so I shove a sword up his ass to prove his point is irrelevant. And THEN I send my little skellie buddies to go in and fuck him up like no tomorrow.'

'And?' Gwyn asked him.

'Well, when I get off my fine toned ass, I try to beat the crap out of him, but the little bitch is too fast, so I grabs him instead.' Nito continued. 'But Miyazaki and his little bitch ass human slaves made sure you can get out of it by mashing yo triggers.'

'And then he kicks your many behinds?'

Nito nodded and sat down seemingly depressed, but the skeleton faces gave no sort expression.

'On the subject of The Catacombs, Patches…?'

The aforementioned bastard-for-all-eternity stood and cleared his throat.

'Yeah bruv, our plans failed. He knows what dialogue options to say now, so no Sparta-style kickin' anymore for me.' The Hyena moaned.

'Oi, Patches?' Phil began. 'Ya know how you're a merchant yeah?'

'Hmm?'

'Well, have any dags?' The cockney goat demon asked.

'Well, I'm bloody glad ya asked! In my very own trove of treasures, I have many a dog! What tickles ya fancy?'

'Hrm, well bruv, I need me dags to guard the den, know what I'm sayin'? Plus Shank's corpse smells a bit.'

'Well, I have three-headed dogs, little demon Chihuahuas…' The bald man listed. The rest of the table shook their heads and ignored the two making the deal.

'Say Smough, what are you drawing?' Ornstein asked while looking over the fat knight's shoulder.

'Oh well, I thought it would be nice to discuss tactics and what not.' Smough answered. The other members of the table nodded, albeit with somewhat confused looks on their faces.

'Wait, Smough is smart?' Shiva said while cocking his armoured head to the side.

Smough snorted. 'Yes, I harbour a degree of intelligence.'

Ornstein shook his head. 'So, what are you drawing again?'

'The Chosen' his partner answered. 'And what he normally equips himself with.'

The rest of table finally agreed with the fat knight.

'I think that would actually be a better idea.' Ciaran piped up. 'You know, actually _move _the talk along.'

'Hah, you that excited for afterwards?' Artorias laughed while nudged her in the side, which was countered by a far sharper elbow in his kidney.

'Artorias' hoe has the right of it!' Gwyn agreed while bolting up. 'We shall come to an agreement.'

'I am not his-'

'Now, if you want to kill that backstabbing, party-poopin', katana spamming, filthy scrubbing bastard, raise your _left _hand in agreement!' Gwyn commanded.

The entire table raised their hand (or many left hands) in agreement, but still Lord Gwyn sighed in disappointment.

'Artorias, you side with the Chosen Asshole?' Gwyn asked.

'Oh no, I'm with yas.' Artorias corrected.

'Then why are you raising your _right _hand?'

'Because, you know, my other is busted…' The fallen knight answered sheepishly.

'What are the rules?' Gwyn said, unmoved by the last statement.

'I know but…'

'_**Raise it**_.' Gwyn interrupted while shaking his fist angrily, forcing Artorias to pick up his left arm with his working one.

'Ah good, we are all in agreement.' Gwyn said happily while smiling. 'Now then, Smough, what have you devised so far?'

The executioner nodded, and placed the drawing pad on the table, and Lord Gwyn reached out and…

'What the _flying-fuck _is this!?'


	5. Chapter 5

Lord Gwyn's mouth fell agape. His eyes were suddenly aflame with confusion, and frustration. His brow and magnificent beard where matted with beads of sweat, his hands shook from pure rage.

'What is the meaning of this, Smough!?' Gwyn bellowed as he gazed at the page.

'I… erm… well, I was bored, and my mind tends to wander…' The fat knight tried to defend himself.

'I can see!' Gwyn grimaced. On the page, a full sized Gwynevere in a suggestive pose sat on the remains of her gown, and instead, the almighty bosom was revealed in all it glory and detail, right down to the…

'Eugh, get rid of it, Quelana!' Gwyn gagged while tossing the page to Quelana, but was intercepted by Ornstein.

'Hey hey! Don't throw this masterpiece away!' The knight reasoned. 'I think I'll… hold on to this for later.'

The men of the table gave disappointed groans and tuts, and some like Kirk, started cursing to himself at his poor reactions.

'Eugh, now then…' Gwyn swallowed the last remnants of sick before looking back at the page. On it, (unfortunately no more Lordran Playboy cover ideas), a well detailed figure of a immaculately dressed man wearing an exquisitely sewn aristocratic suit, a wanderer's make shift hood, a pair of black boots, some leather gloves and on his waist hung a Iaito*, a parrying dagger, and the dreaded Darkmoon Talisman that dishes out the hate.

To the side of the page, Smough had also listed the rings that this certain build uses, the famous FaP ring, and the rage inducing Dark Wood Grain Ring.

'Ah, the dreaded Demon Hunter** build that we all know and love.' Gwyn sneered sarcastically.

The rest of the table agreed with him, and shuddered at the thought of facing those nightmare inducing buffs. Flipping the next page, a rather different, if the complete opposite character was drawn.

For a start, the figure was drawn in such a pose that it made everyone on the table growl with anger. The figure was armoured with the Giant's set (you know where this is going), a mighty Zweihander wreathed in the flames of chaos, a soft green aura surrounded the warrior, which was emitted from the shield atop his back, and his face was covered with a mask made out of unknown material, yet everyone knew what IT was.

The Face of Absent Mercy.

'Bitch took my mask…' Pinwheel growled.

Gwyn and the table shuddered again by just looking at these builds, none of them dared speak as the pages flipped one by one, until…

'The dick cos-played me?' Artorias spat while slamming his fist on the table.

'Yes, the Chosen is known to cosplay many of us.' Smough explained. 'Hell, he's even done a weird fusion of me and Ornstein.'

Gwyn did not join the conversation, and continued to flip through the drawing pad, grimacing at every revolting build that this author has created over the many long years of torment.

The next particular build was an odd looking one. It was the Black Knights armour set, a Black Knights Greatsword, and strangely, Ornsteins helm. The rings where FaP, Havels, and a side note that says sometimes switches to Red Tear Stone Ring when low on HP. Power Within was the only listed spell.

'Hrm, I haven't seen that one before…' Gwyn mumbled while combing his beard. 'Smough?'

'Ah yes, I believe it's called the 'Guts Build.' Smough answered. The table looked at each other rather confused.

'Who the hell is Guts?' Tarkus asked everyone. Unfortunately, no one had the answer.

'Hrm, I've seen that pose before…' Artorias thought aloud while scratching his chin.

'Well, moving on.' Gwyn said while flicking the page, but took a step back when he saw the pages contents 'Oh dear god, that is ugly.'

This build was indeed, ugly (I had no idea what I was thinking). On top of his head sat the crown of dusk, and his legs were wrapped in a raggy cloth that was annotated with 'Why!?', and on his chest, numerous slabs of stone covered him neck to waist. But what really riled up the bosses was the spells that were listed at the side of the page, one in particular stood out.

'D…DARK BEAD.' Gwyn spluttered while taking a rather overly dramatic step away from the page. The rest of the table sympathized with him, and also scraped their chairs back in fear of those spells.

'Guh, whose idea was it to MAKE those things!?' Logan rumbled under his enormous hat. 'My spells are bad enough, but those are…filthy.'

'Ah, enough! I cannot bare to gaze upon it no longer!' Gwyn gagged while swiftly flicking the page over. 'Oh.'

'Huh.'

'Hrm.'

'Wow.'

'That's OK I guess.'

Gwyn agreed with his four knights, and what he gazed upon was fairly simple. A Darkwraith was drawn in front of him, and the weapons listed were a Chaos Darksword+5 and a Lightning Claymore+5, along with a pyromancy glove with two black flames attuned to it.

'Har, A PvP build! Excellent.' Gwyn laughed while rubbing his hands together, akin to how Kirk rubbed his at the start of this exquisitely written, brilliant and totally canon story.***

'Hrm, if I seem to recall sir, but that is his most recent build.' Smough added while Gwyn gazed upon this easy target.

'Hmm…' Gwyn pondered. The table looked at him in complete silence. Gwyn stood perfectly still, the only movement he was giving was the repeated stroking of his beard, until finally,

'I have a plan.'

* * *

**STARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSS!**

***Did you know that the Iaito is actually a fake sword in real life? It literally means 'mock' or 'imitation' sword. A real sword is called a Shinken, which means Real Sword. **

**This could be referenced somewhat in game. The Iaito+15 is 10 points weaker then the Uchigatana+15, and has no thrust damage. Also, the swift drawing movement of the Iaito's strong attack is a real life sword technique called Iaido. Cool stuff eh?**

****Custom build that I use a lot, PM for link, chapter editor not working for some reason. **

*****SARCASM.**


	6. OH FU I mean, it's Chapter 6

**Prepare your anus for the most random chapter in existence. Warning; contains stupendous amounts of bad humour, language and Barry Scott.**

**YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. **

A lone figure sat in the dark corner of the cell. Clad in the familiar, and incredibly awesome looking Darkwraith armour, the man sighed as he listened to that woman's voice speak about that friggin' prophecy for the millionth time. The Darkwraith looked up expectantly, and peered out of the hole in the roof that was the only source of light in this cell, and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

'Oscar, where da fuck you at!?' The Darkwraith screamed as he bolted up. Peering around the Dick…I mean, DARKwraith grasped his Darksword and swung it above his head, looking like a complete tit in the process.

For this man _was_ a tit.

'Oscaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrr!' The Darkwraith screamed again, now dual wielding both his Darksword and Claymore and swinging them around the cell like a drunk, retarded octopus.

(**First rule of self-insertion fan fiction: make yourself lovable to appease the reader)**

'Oscar ya smelly c*nt! Fagit! Where is ma corpse!?' The idiot screamed again now going completely berserk, hitting everything in his swinging range.

'FUCKING FAGIT, I'LL HAVE YA MUM FOR TEA, AND I'LL NUT YOUR GRANNY IN THE FACE AT THE SAME TIME!' (Anger issues, right there)

The Darkwraith stopped swinging, and paused for a breath while surveying his surroundings, and only then did he notice the piece of paper taped to one of the bars on the door.

'Oh, candy!' The retard screamed while ripping the page from the doorway. Using his limited English knowledge, the idiot deciphered the words 'cake', 'party' and 'women'.

'Oh dear god yes!' The Darkwraith giggled while reading those three words over and over again. The Darkwraiths attempt at reading was disrupted the sound of the rusted grate of a door being opened, and in the doorway, a knight loomed above him.

It was…..….Artorias! (More dots, the better!)

'Heya Kid! How ya doin' today?' The azure knight chirped. The Darkwraith practically shat himself from excitement.

'Jesus H, how'd you get here!?' The Darkwraith whimpered from either sheer happiness, or the fact his breeches are now filled with 'soil'.

'I'll be your escort to the party! Come, come friend! The knight answered cheerfully while shaking the Dickwraiths hand.

'So, what's your name, my 'number one' fan?' Artorias asked

**(Second rule of self-insertion fan fiction: make sure your name is simple, easy to remember and unique at the same time)**

'My name is Benjamin Alexander Robert Ruben Yardley Samuel Christian Oliver Thomas Thorndale.' The Darkwraith answered. 'Or Barry Scott for short.'

Artorias' expression was concealed with the shadow of his hood, but judging by the long, awkward silence, he was not feeling well.

'So, err, Barry…'

'Barry Scott.' The Darkwraith corrected him.

'OK…Barry Scott, why did you join the Darkwraiths, hmmm?' Artorias inquired, obviously disliking the notion of being near one.

'Cause those filthy casuls need to paid a lesson!' Barry Scott answered.

'Why, what have they done to deserve that?' Artorias wondered.

'For being casul!' The Darkwraith screeched his answer.

It was now clear to Artorias that this man had clearly watched to many outdated and overrated YouTube videos, and also the fact that this man, was indeed, completely retarded.

'Uh-huh.' Was all the knight said in answer. The pair continued through the Asylum, passing various cells, climbing the rusty ladder to the first bonfire and approaching the great brass doors that led to the main hall.

'This is where it's all at.' Artorias announced while gesturing towards the door. 'Try not to crap your pants.'

Barry Scott ignored the warning and simply jumped up and down on the spot as Artorias opened the doors to the 'party', an impressive feat for someone with one arm.

Artorias entered the grand hall, Barry Scott in tow, who proceeded to crap himself at the sight of all the bosses and NPCs that were gathered around a large and grandiose table, with a massive variety of food and drink laid out before him.

'Ah, the man of the hour is here!' Gwyn cheered as he clapped his hands, everyone else doing so as well.

'Oh, you guys…' Barry Scott wept as the people cheered and clapped for him. Artorias led him to his seat, right next to the Great Lord himself.

'So, mister…' Gwyn

'Barry Scott.'

Gwyn nodded, seemingly fine with the name. 'You're probably wondering what all of this for, yes?'

Barry Scott nodded while shovelling cake down his throat.

'Well, I think we all got off the wrong foot, and well, we've been doing this for nearly three years now, so, I think it's time we all got together, and celebrated our last days as a family, before the release of Dark Souls II, which we will then be discarded and forgotten about for ever and ever.' Gwyn reasoned, and raised his glass. 'I propose a toast to Barry Scott and to all of the Dark Souls community for the great three years together.' (Amen to that)

The table agreed, and gulped down there drinks, Barry Scott guzzling an entire bottle of the stuff, who had taken notice of some of the female members of the table.

**(Third rule of self-insertion fan fiction, you must be attractive to everyone, EVERYONE, in the story)**

'Ladies, how are you doin' today?' Barry Scott wooed as he leaned towards the said ladies, who giggled back sarcastically, and two females in particular had caught Barry Scott's eyes.

**(Fourth rule of self-insertion fan fiction, you must have sexual intercourse with at least two different characters. Preferably simultaneously.)**

'So, want to see my Lord' Blade babe?' Barry Scott wooed towards Ciaran, who would have said something, if not for her 'partner'.

'YOU FILTHY LITTLE CL*T! I'LL KILL YOUR SPLEEN IF YOU EVER-'

'Artorias!' Gwyn cut through massively, halting the Abysswalker's attempted rampage. 'All in due time…'

'What?'

'Nothing, Barry Scott. Nothing at all…'


End file.
